


Photograph

by alexthesinger



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: M/M, NikiDEADforov, OtaYuri Mentioned, Why did I write this again?, You Have Been Warned, i've only shown this to two of my friends and they both cried, this hurt a lot to write
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-23
Updated: 2017-04-23
Packaged: 2018-10-23 02:52:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 809
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10710648
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alexthesinger/pseuds/alexthesinger
Summary: This is based off of Photograph by Ed Sheeran.You can also find this, along with others, on my account on Wattpad.





	Photograph

Loving can hurt  
Loving can hurt sometimes.  
But it's the only thing that I know

Yuuri had been staring at the picture for an hour now.

He and Viktor were standing together under a lamppost, in the middle of a light snow. His arms were wrapped around Viktor’s neck, and they were kissing, two fools in love.

It had been Viktor’s favorite photo. They had been so happy; they were absolutely, perfectly happy with their lives. Then the Fight had happened.

They had fought before, but never like this. Yuuri wasn’t even sure what it was about anymore. He had said things, Viktor had said things. 

And in the end, Viktor had walked out, begun to cross the street, intending to disappear into the night.

Instead, a car had appeared out of nowhere. Yuuri was powerless, watching as the suddenly-here vehicle smashed into the man that he loved so much.

Viktor… hadn’t made it.

 

When it gets hard  
You know it can get hard sometimes  
It is the only thing that makes us feel alive

The funeral happened on Christmas. Viktor was supposed to be 33, and had been lamenting the loss of his hair for weeks.

Makkachin and Yuuri had kept a silent vigil at the grave. Yuri had wanted to stay, too, but Yakov dragged him off.

Finally the cold had gotten too much, and Yuuri had to return home. It wasn’t home any more, though. Viktor was no longer cooking up strange yet amazing food in the kitchen, or waiting to surprise Yuuri with kisses when he entered the room. 

Makkachin refused to come, gnawing through the leash when Yuuri tried to drag him away. In the end, Yuuri hadn’t had the strength to pull him home.

Yuuri left blue roses on Viktor’s grave.

 

We keep this love in a photograph  
We made these memories for ourselves  
Where our eyes are never closing  
Hearts are never broken  
Time’s forever frozen still

Yuuri always had the picture in his pocket.

Him and Viktor would be forever frozen in it, happier than Yuuri could ever be again. If he could, he would jump into the picture and just live the moment over and over again. Being in Viktor’s arms, kissing him again.

Makkachin still refused to come home. Yuuri figured that he would remain there.

Yuuri still went to the rink, always skating to Viktor’s music. His feelings could go away for a while, to the tune of Stammi Vicino. He grew his hair out.

The skating season passed, and multiple skaters dedicated their programs to the man who waltzed his way into people's’ hearts and minds. 

Yuuri won gold that season. That made five consecutive wins.

He went to Viktor’s grave every day. He left blue roses every time. After a while, the lady at the flower shop started having them already made when he came in.

He had lost weight. With the perpetual bags under his eyes, and his long hair, Viktor would hardly have recognized him.

The next season, Yuuri skated to the theme he had used for his first season with Viktor. Love had a totally different meaning to him now.

He won gold again.

When I'm away  
I will remember how you kissed me  
Under the lamppost  
Back on 6th street

It was now years later. Yuuri had adopted two dogs, named Makkachin and Viktor. 

He had retired from professional skating, and was now coaching a young boy. His pupil reminded him of how he used to be, happy, bright, full of wonder.

He still kept the photograph in his pocket.

He still left blue roses every day. But he left them on two graves now. Makkachin had stayed with his owner to the end.

Yuuri adopted a child, just to make the house feel less empty.

Vikya could have been his and Viktor’s child, with black hair and ice blue eyes. She filled the house with the happy laughter that it had been missing for so long. 

Her “uncles,” Yuri and Otabek, came to visit often. Yuri complained of his dog allergies every time Viktor and Makkachin jumped him. Otabek would just laugh.

Yuri and Otabek taught her how to ride a bicycle. Yuuri bandaged her scrapes every time she fell. 

Yuuri looked at the picture once more, before putting it on his bedside table and lying down. Vikya was in the next room, curled up with the dogs on her bed.

Viktor should have been beside him. He should have been there to watch Vikya try skating. Should have been there to make faces at her and tell her corny jokes. Should have cuddled her up in blankets and made chicken soup when she was sick.

But he wasn’t. And Yuuri was learning to deal with it.

Someday he would see him again, but for now, he would carry his picture.

**Author's Note:**

> Please don't kill me.


End file.
